


A World of Dreams

by CatOfShades



Category: Kamen Rider Decade, Kamen Rider Zero-One
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:46:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28050366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatOfShades/pseuds/CatOfShades
Summary: Basically a Zero-One episode of Kamen Rider Decade.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jen425](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jen425/gifts).



> A very happy holidays!  
> In case it amuses you as much as it amuses me, every time I wrote Thouser it got autocorrected to Trouser. Serves him right.

Kadoya Tsukasa sleeps in. It is one of his favorite things. The soft comfort of the photoshop couch. The sound of people tiptoeing around him so as not to wake him. People that are all doing work while he is cozily dozing to his heart’s content. It’s sublime.

Still that doesn’t stop him from being a little miffed when he wakes to the sight of an empty room. No sounds now other than Natsumi’s grandfather humming to himself in the kitchen. They all just up and left without him. Tsukasa scowls as he stretches out his long legs and sidles the few feet to where food has been left for him on the table. He enjoys a leisurely sulk about it while he eats. If they didn’t see the need to wait for him, he’s certainly not going to rush for them.

The meal helps improve his mood, as does the prospect of what may lay beyond the front door. They had traveled last night. A brand new world awaits him, with no hints yet beyond their quick scan of local TV channels to make sure they weren’t suddenly in a war zone before they turned in for the night. And now here it was, a new morning and a new world. Tsukasa checks over his favorite camera, making sure that the lens is clean and the film is plentiful before stepping out into the unknown.

The unknown is fairly boring at first look. A regular city. People going about their days, eating, laughing, hustling to their next destination. A few glance his way but then quickly away again, a bit of curiosity but nothing more. There is something on Tsukasa’s face, in front of one of his eyes. He lifts a finger to poke it, and his vision fills with… data. He’s still seeing the world, but wherever he looks information appears. Names and purposes of buildings, makes and models of cars, road names and maps, anything Tsukasa looks at instantly starts making all its details known to him. He takes the gadget off to inspect it, then replaces it with a grin. He might keep this one.

The grin fades a moment later when a sudden pressure mounts behind his eyes. Something pushes against his mind, questing for an inroad, full of demands and instructions. It scrabbles uncomfortably, but finds no purchase. Tsukasa is too alien to this world, and the aspect of this reality that rejects his presence and warps his photos also affords him a measure of protection. He snorts derisively as the presence and the pressure fades back away. As if anything could control him. Still, it annoys him enough to take off the offending device and expertly sink it into the next trash can.

He saunters down the sidewalk, no real purpose in mind. It’s not like his friends left him a note with where they were going. It’s not like they would have known enough about this world to name a destination anyway. But Tsukasa has always trusted his feet. His feet have taken him to hell and back, resolutely back out of whatever he’s walked into. 

He’s not more than four blocks down when a large van with English lettering screeches to a halt next to him. He stops, watching it with interest, ready to fight if he needs as there haven’t been too many times this has ever led to something good. A tall thin young woman with a severe expression gets out of the front and beelines over to him. 

“I’m taking you off of patrol duty for now. We could use an extra set of hands.”

Tsukasa raises an eyebrow at her, and she frowns, bemused by something about him.

“Where’s your response?” She asks sharply.

“Sure. I’ll go along.” He replies with a shrug.

The woman steps forward, expression darkening and mouth opening in what can only be a reprimand when her communications device beeps. She stops in her tracks to answer.

“Yes. Yes I- Understood. We’ll be there in five.”

She turns back to him with a glare, “Get into the back. We’ll talk later.” And without waiting or watching for his response she turns on her heel and climbs up into the front of the van.

Tsukasa hasn’t even closed the door to the back of the van, much less sat down, when the vehicle starts rolling again. Thankfully, his balance is exceptional, and instead of tumbling down to the pavement, he closes the door, and turns to survey the interior of the vehicle.

Two other men are seated on opposite sides of the van, dressed in the same uniform that the world put Tsukasa into the moment he stepped out his front door. He realizes now that the English letters on the van are the same as those neatly printed across the uniforms. So this is where he’s meant to fit in. He nods casually to one of his new comrades, and takes a seat.

The inside of the van, apart from the seating, is like a strange, small armory. A standard assortment of firearms sit cozily next to some less familiar machinery. A whole section of one wall is taken up by screens and interfaces, as clearly advanced as they are unique to this world. 

Tsukasa is pleased that neither of his traveling companions are talkative, nor feel the need to question his presence. He’s able to just study them and his surroundings until the van screeches and swerves to an abrupt halt. They really should hire better drivers.

The back door flings open, and that same woman is there, commands falling from her lips with the ease of long experience. Tsukasa considers briefly whether or not to play along, but he’s in this far, and it would be more trouble than it’s worth to fight people this well armed without an actual reason to. He imitates his fellows, snatching up a rifle and jumping out of the vehicle to stand at attention behind it. 

“The building behind me contains a variety of TV stages. Our target is currently on the one in the southwestern corner. Our orders are to eliminate.” The stern woman tells them shortly. Tsukasa expects further information. What the target looks like at the very least. But instead she makes a sharp gesture, and the two other men, soldiers really, get moving. Tsukasa falls into step, his camera bumping against his chest, pink stark against the dark fatigues.

Their team bursts through a door in the south wall, apparently unconcerned with property damage. Tsukasa has to admire their dramatic effect. Screams start up within the building, and as he steps in after the other AIMs members, he sees a crowded stage and audience seating quickly succumbing to panic. Spectators jump up and run at the sight of the armed intruders. Cameras are abandoned and one crashes to the ground in a shower of electric sparks that flare too bright in the darkened room. 

Under the spotlights on the stage proper two men stand frozen in fear and confusion. They had been in the midst of some sort of cooking show or competition, as both were geared up in aprons and stood surrounded by counters strewn with half-chopped ingredients and boiling stovetops. The AIMs team weaves through the seating and the alarmed TV crew, and up onto that stage, with Tsukasa, warily, following a step behind them.

Guns train on one of the chefs, and the deafening sound of the rifles blasting screeches a terrible feedback over the sound system. But the intended target is unharmed. At the last moment, an unfamiliar Rider had leapt into the fray shielding the chef and knocking him out of the path of the bullets. Not that they would have hit anyway. Tsukasa’s “unintentional” stumble into the backs of his companions had seen to that.

Still, Tsukasa stares with interest at the Rider, approving of the aesthetics of this world’s armor. But how well does it fight? He grins and unzips his uniform jacket, exposing the gray belt that was obscured beneath it. One way to find out.

The world ripples with his power, a familiar protest that echoes like an embrace against his senses. With a piercing glint of light the dimension frames of his armor slide into place, a beautiful second skin. He hefts the RideBooker, his smile no longer visible but sharp and excited. As he strides forward he hears his AIMs compatriots cry out in surprise and confused dismay, as they scramble back from him. 

Tsukasa points his weapon at this world’s Rider, beckoning the green figure forward. Their sparring point will be carefully between AIMs and their intended prey, which should help keep distractions to a minimum. He doesn’t give the Rider a chance to speak, eager to see what this world’s best fighter has to offer. Sparks fly as their blows collide, the other warrior’s body language uncertain but determined. He won’t back down from protecting his charge, Tsukasa can read it in him clearly, and is pleased by how much he has come to understand.

“Izu!” A young man’s voice calls out from his opponent. “What is this armor? A new ZAIA product?”  
A robotic, clipped female voice replies, “Scanning. … Unable to scan. I have no data on this model.”

Tsukasa takes advantage of the Rider’s distraction to get in a hit, and is pleased to see how little it slows him down. He’s preparing his next move when a different, far more familiar female voice calls out above the noise of the fray.

“Tsukasa! Stop it!”

He pauses at that, almost instinctively now, and is rewarded by a Kuuga pile drive right into the stage floor. 

“Ouch. What the hell.” He grumbles at Yuusuke, shoving him off.

“While you’re fighting Zero-One, those bad guys are gonna shoot Ichikome.” Yuusuke hisses back at him. “Stop getting in his way, ok? He’s trying to protect him.”

“I know that.” Tsukasa replies sulkily, annoyed to see that while he had engaged Rider Zero-One, the two AIMs soldiers hadn’t stayed in their places and watched like they were supposed to. Instead, they’d been circling around the fight, closing in on a clear shot to their target. The man was hardly undefended, though, Kivala’s sleek silver form catching the light with all its dangerous beauty.

Without Decade harrying him, this world’s Rider quickly resumes his task, sprinting to intercept one of the armed men. 

“Yuusuke, help me with the other one!” Zero-One calls, and Kuuga gives Decade a little tug before turning to his blue Dragon form and heading off the other attacker.

Tsukasa wonders what the fuss is about. If Kivala is guarding him, that chef is about as safe as he can be. But he sighs and readies to rejoin the fight, when a blade at his throat pulls him up short.

Its owner slowly circles to his front, weapon never leaving his throat, revealing another Rider. This one’s mask is styled to look like a jackal, and its blade where it hovers far too close to him is a wickedly sharp scythe. 

“Who are you.” It’s a demand, not a question. The jackal Rider’s voice is the voice of his commanding officer, and Tsukasa takes a moment to add that fact to his picture of this world. It isn’t the first time that he has seen Riders on both sides of a conflict. Not by a long shot. But he has to admit that his time with Yuusuke and Natsumi has left him biased in his perception of Riders and their nature.

“Kadoya Tsukasa. Just a passing through Kamen Rider.” he replies, and as he gauges a slight break in her guard he parries the blade away from himself, “Remember that.”

The jackal Rider is undeterred by his parry, expertly bringing her scythe back around to slice at his left arm. He deflects it just in time but is caught by a second blow to his midsection that knocks some wind out of him. 

“That’s not ZAIA technology. Not Hiden either. Who made that belt?” She demands, unceasing in her attacks. Tsukasa doesn’t waste the breath to answer her. He had wanted to test out the strength of this world’s Riders, after all. And it appears the world was acquiescing all too well. He gives himself over to the rhythm of the fight.

He doesn’t have too long for it. Once the other AIMs operatives are incapacitated, Zero-One and Tsukasa’s allies quickly round on their fight. Not that Tsukasa needs the help. But, with the appearance of so many additional opponents, the jackal Rider makes a hasty retreat. Decade is about to go after her when a green-armored hand falls on his shoulder.  
As Tsukasa turns to look at him the Rider’s armor falls, revealing a tired looking young man with a dark business jacket overtop of a bright casual shirt. The man smiles at him, and although weary, the smile has a warmth that reminds Tsukasa a bit of Yuusuke.

“It’s okay. Let her go.” The man says gently, “And thanks for the help. At the end at least.” With that last bit his brow furrows and he shakes his head. Removing his hand he turns to where Yuusuke and Natsumi are standing, now also out of their armor. “Is this the friend you told me about?”

“Sure is!” Yuusuke smiles, exasperated but bright and fond. And Natsumi comes up to Tsukasa and pokes the shoulder of his armor pointedly. Catching the hint, Tsukasa lets the dimensional power ripple back into the fabric of the multiverse.

As soon as he’s out of armor, Natsumi puts a hand on the back of Tsukasa’s neck and pushes him down in a bow toward this world’s Rider. “His name is Tsukasa, and he is very sorry for getting in the way of protecting Mr. Ichikome.” She says, forcefully.

Tsukasa straightens up and swats her hand away. “I knew that you guys had it.” He doesn’t say it, but he’s pleased to have found them. Exploring the new worlds is always better with his friends.

“Did you even know that we were here?” She narrows her eyes.

He shrugs. That’s not really the point. Tsukasa turns to eye their… new friend? And finds that the man is eyeing him back just as curiously. A strange, stonily pleasant-faced young woman with straight black hair and her hands clasped has come to stand by him.

“I’ll admit.” This world’s Rider says, “I hadn’t quite believed you when you said you came from a different world. But when I saw those forms you had… You’re all Riders too?”

Yuusuke grins, “We sure are.”

The man grins back, “Well. That armor was certainly out-of-this-world.” He pauses, “Aaanddd…. That’s how you know it’s Aruto!” he gives a too cheesy comedic punchline, pointing out into nothing. The woman behind him imitates the gesture.

Tsukasa stares at him bemused, until a second later when he is doubled over with laughter. The native Rider, Aruto, looks surprised and pleased. But as soon as he’s able to again, Tsukasa shoots a glare up at a very smug Natsumi.


	2. Chapter 2

Kadoya Tsukasa prowls around the film set, chafing at the security guard uniform his friends had talked him into. He had offered to impersonate the target, or his opponent, up on the stage. It would’ve been a nice little trap, should AIMs retry their attack. And if they didn’t, Tsukasa probably would’ve won the cooking competition. Win-win.

But no, Natsumi and Yuusuke had insisted that he stay off camera. The security uniform is supposed to give him license to stalk the edges of the set and the aisles of the audience without alarming anyone. And hopefully to prevent anyone who was present at the battle here this morning from recognizing him as an assailant. It’s unnecessary. And boring. Tsukasa sulkily uses the time to practice his photography instead. If there even is an attack, it will be pretty damn obvious, after all. They are looking for armed maniacs, not some kind of sneak-thief.

He wonders idly where Daiki has gotten off to.

Up on the stage, Ichikome, Aruto’s robotic chef friend, is in the fervor of competition alongside his rival. Audience oohs and aahs accompany the sounds of sizzling meats and knives expertly tap-dancing across chopping boards.

Click. Goes Tsukasa’s camera.

This world is interesting at least. From what he had gleaned from Aruto’s long-winded explanations, they had managed to invent truly sentient androids. And their new Rider friend was the intended CEO of the responsible company, until a rival businessman had ousted him. For whatever reason, the new CEO had decided to then destroy the company’s most impressive product. Cue the current battle between Aruto’s new budding company to protect his old charges and his bizarrely militant former company to exterminate them. Tsukasa suspects that business practices and ethics are very different in this world.

And now Tsukasa is here, sullenly capturing stills of the oh-so-exciting culinary exploits and waiting for something to finally explode. He makes his way backstage, sneaking some shots of Natsumi, Yuusuke, Aruto, and his strange robot assistant, until Natsumi catches him at it and shoos him back to his rounds.

It’s hard to keep ignoring the action on the stage. He continues his efforts valiantly, but there’s something about the bright lights and sharp smells, the glint of knives and the splashes of color, that draw the eyes toward them. The chef on the right is Aruto’s champion, his robotic nature only betrayed by the strange electronic circles that glow where his ears should be. He’s focused utterly on the ingredients before him, wholly absorbed in his balancing act as he caramelizes onions and fluffs rice and elegantly slices salmon flesh. 

Dreams. Aruto had gone on about dreams at length. His own dreams, hindered now by his powerful rival. But also the dreams of these robots. Tsukasa thinks it makes for a strange business model: awakening the sentience of their product and inspiring them to seek out their own ambitions. Who is it serving? Are the human owners the real customer, or is it the Humagears themselves? Tsukasa frowns, and studies Ichikome’s face. The determined passion lined there.

That momentary distraction is of course when Aruto’s enemies strike. Thankfully, they announce themselves by demolishing the part of the back wall of the studio, so Tsukasa can’t be blamed for failing to notice them.

An unfamiliar man strides through the cloud of debris, an assured arrogant smirk on his face that makes Tsukasa instantly loathe him. 

“I regret to inform you all that there’s been an accident.” The man calls, voice easily carrying across the audience, “And that filming will have to be canceled.”

Across the way, Aruto steps out onto the stage from the wings, an expression darker that Tsukasa has yet seen on the young businessman. “I won’t let you. Not when he’s come so far.” He calls back, “Keep filming, keep cooking! I’ll hold him off!” He directs the crew back to their spots, and with a quick glance to the wings he asks, “Please! Protect the stage and the cameras!” 

And with that, Aruto launches himself into the crowd, his armor’s designs projecting into the air around him and then printing themselves onto his moving form. He rams straight into the intruder, clearly intending to push him back out through the hole the man had made. But it isn’t so easy. As Aruto approaches, the smirking bastard summons his own Rider armor, equipping it just in time to catch Zero-One’s charge. He makes it look smooth and effortless, and Tsukasa’s eyes narrow.

The enemy Rider’s interception can’t cancel all of Zero-One’s momentum, however, and the two slide back through the wall, armored feet grinding against the rubble-strewn ground. They are immediately obscured by the thick cloud of dust that still hangs like a curtain around the hole, and the echo of their passage causes further loose bits to rain from the top and sides of the structural wound.

Tsukasa spares a glance back toward the stage. The show is, somehow, going on. The chefs have seemingly redoubled their efforts, a whole new timer ticking away on their preparation time. The crew as well are in their places, though with many a watchful look back towards the conflict. If it escalates, they will most certainly bolt. 

Kivala and Kuuga patrol around the stage, helping audience members evacuate the scene, and reassuring the TV crew that they are being guarded. Both of them nod to Tsukasa, and he feels a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as he turns back toward the sounds of battle.  
It’s time to help Aruto wipe that man’s smirk off his face.

The Decade power ripples around him. Still-frames of other dimensions, captures like those he longs to take himself, align themselves before him. He strides through with ease, every step a bridge between worlds. It’s his birthright and his very purpose. The dimensional frames coalesce against his skin, a bright collage of power that solidifies and hardens around him. He hoists Ride-Booker and saunters through the dusty veil and out into the bright air. 

Zero-One is engaged with their enemy. Even the man’s armor is ostentatious and annoying. His proud mannerisms give him a pretense of power that makes Tsukasa’s lip curl. He has little doubt that this is the usurping CEO of Aruto’s story. What right does this dirty businessman possibly think that he has to put on such airs? He knows nothing of real power and real evil.

Tsukasa extends his weapon into a blade and lunges at the offending figure, but his strike is blocked by a familiar scythe. The jackal Rider smoothly deflects his blow, and inserts herself between Decade and his prey. 

“You’re fighting me.” She says firmly, taking up a stance that Tsukasa knows will be used to force him back. He’s about to look for a way to dodge, to push them instead to the side and circle back around to Zero-One’s fight, when another voice cuts in.

“No. He’s mine.” And there stands Kaitou, grin slyly amused but fierce, pulling his hands from his pockets to load his driver. On his face is the same half-glasses type of device that Tsukasa had rid himself of when he first entered this world. It is quickly obscured by the bulky black and blue of Diend’s helmet.

“As you like,” The jackal Rider responds dismissively, and pivots to strike instead at Zero-One. Tsukasa has just enough time to bring his blade up protectively, as the sound of bullets ripping through the fabric of space-time, Diend’s own unique brand of danger, rings out near him. He blocks most of the shots, but a couple burn painfully into his right shoulder. In response he shifts Ride-Booker to its gun form, and returns fire, his own projectiles making a similar warped echo to those who know how to hear it. It consumes Tsukasa’s attention, this vicious exchange of blasts, the way this reality cries out as tiny holes are burrowed through it.

As their firefight intensifies, Tsukasa knows his best chance is to pressure Kaitou enough to withdraw. The man is profoundly dangerous, but won’t stick around if the tides turn against him. He spares a glance for Aruto’s fight to see how this world’s hero fares against his own two foes.

It’s not good. Zero-One has taken heavy damage, harried by both the sharp precise strikes of the jackal Rider and the grandiose postured blows of his rival. If Tsukasa focuses enough on Diend to drive him off, Aruto will most certainly fall. Even so, the man hasn’t complained, hasn’t called Tsukasa from his own rivalry to beg for help.

Aruto stands tall, though clearly not without effort. “I won’t.. let you.. take this from him!” he pants out and dodges a strike from his opponent, lands a blow against him, attempts and fails to parry a slice from the jackal Rider. But it doesn’t hit home. Ride-Booker, once more a blade, sends it askew, as Decade joins Zero-One’s defensive position.

“Thank you.” Aruto sounds grateful, and a bit surprised. The two heroes now fight back-to-back, blows raining down on each side, while Diend stalks a circle around them, lazily sending in a bullet wherever it would trip them up the most. Tsukasa is going to put salt in the man’s coffee tomorrow morning. Round and round they go, and it’s not a winning position. They are taking far more damage from their enemies then they are able to dish out.

“If we can just… keep this up…” Aruto grits out, then gasps in pain as the other CEO plants a roundhouse in his gut which knocks him to the ground. On impact, Zero-One’s armor caves to the accumulated damage and disintegrates, leaving the young man bloodied and defenseless and coughing amidst the debris. Distracted by Aruto’s plight, Tsukasa misses a parry, and the jackal Rider slams him back against the wall as Diend snipes the Ride-Booker from his hand. He feels like cursing as the Decade armor fizzles back out into the extra-dimensional spaces that source it.

“Oh, come on,” Aruto’s rival’s voice drips with haughty derision, “Why drag this out any longer?” He grabs the young businessman’s chin and tilts it up, purposefully dropping his own armor to gloat down at his victim. “We both know how this is going to end.”

Tsukasa, bare-knuckled, slugs the man in the face. It feels so good, though he half-expects to get sliced into by the jackal Rider in retaliation. But she doesn’t move, just stays stock still and watches her boss. Tsukasa takes the opportunity to offer Aruto a hand, helping his new friend back up to his feet, then turning to regard the enemy CEO.

He’s holding a hand up to his cheek, blood specked at the corner of his mouth and a dark bruise already starting to bloom. He opens his mouth to spit out words, either condemnations of them or orders to his lackey to kill them. Tsukasa doesn’t wait to find out. He speaks first, talking over the man and cutting him off. Regardless of his own cuts and bruises, Tsukasa steps forward between Aruto and this asshole, back straight, summoning the full force of his history into his bearing and eyeing him disdainfully.

“President Hiden will win. That’s how it’s going to end.” Tsukasa pronounces, “He gives his all to protect his dreams. And his dreams are the dreams of so many others. They are stronger than you could understand. Save yourself the embarrassment and stand down.”

Aruto stares at Tsukasa in shock, then a slow brilliant hopeful smile spreads across his face. “That’s right!” He steps up to stand next to the world-walker, “Nothing is going to stand in the way of our dream. Least of all you.”

Tsukasa’s fingers tingle in a familiar wonderful way, and he holds them out before him as a card materializes. It weaves itself from the essence of this world and the resonance of the Rider besides him, and Tsukasa feels the euphoria of new connections and new understanding sing within him. Really it’s a shame Natsumi and Yuusuke missed how great he just was.

As Tsukasa inserts the new card into his driver, the belt harmonizing finally with this dimension, he hears their enemy sputter. “What do you think can achieve here? You are still overpowered and outnumbered.”

“Are they though? I think it’s an even fight.” A new figure appears, another young man with messy dark hair and a scowl. His eyes lock on the jackal Rider and he says quietly but intently, “I won’t let you do anything you’ll regret.” And with a yell of determined effort, he forces open the device in his hands and inserts it into his own belt.

“Fuwa!” Aruto calls to the man, delighted at reinforcements; then his face hardens and he faces their opponents with new resolve. “Alright! Let’s do this! For Ichikome’s dream!”

The air fills with noise and echoing ripples of power as the three heroes transform. Tsukasa is able to strike first, as the people from this world start in surprise at seeing him, now a perfect duplicate of Zero-One. He gets a blow in against their unarmored enemy, knocking him back, before the man straightens, eyes flashing with rage. From his suit jacket pocket he produces a dark device lined with an intense blue glow..

“Izu. What.. is that?” Aruto calls out, and his assistant’s voice answers.

“Scanning. Please stand by. It is a newly developed upgrade module created to interface with the Thouser driver. Copyrighted by ZAIA corporation just yesterday.”

Thouser wipes the blood from his mouth off on his white sleeve, and grins nastily. With a regal gesture he brandishes the item, and slides it smartly into a slot on his belt. A wave of static hisses across the area, nearby lights flash and then dim, and bruise armor with luminous blue lines slides into place across his form.

They close in for battle. Fuwa takes on the jackal Rider, separating into their own personal battle. Tsukasa can feel some history there, and he leaves them to it. He is much more interested in hounding this ZAIA bastard. And it’s good that he does, as even with their combined and mirrored strength Tsukasa and Aruto struggle to find purchase against the upgraded Thouser. 

Their armor is still weakened from the earlier beating. Thouser’s powered up hits seem to seep in and eat away at their injuries. Every strike he makes against them leaves dark stains on their twinned green armors. What blows they land seem to rupture his armor almost too much, wounds that glow and quickly close. Tsukasa grits his teeth. It would take a very powerful hit to take him down. Something that would overload his suit before that healing could kick in. But it would need to land cleanly, and Thouser leaves them no opportunities.

Another blow burns into his body, agitating a wound from one of the jackal’s previous slices. Tsukasa hears an impact, and Aruto’s breath huffs out in pain next to him. Even outnumbering the mad CEO, they are again on the defensive, backed almost into the same wall as when all three enemies had been herding them.

Three…

Where is Daiki?

Almost as if reading Tsukasa’s mind, Kaitou appears off to the side of their battle. He is no longer transformed, and watches the fight with cheerful interest, driver held up casually on his shoulder and half-glasses device still covering one eye.

His grin sharpens, as Thouser corners them, and Kaitou brings his gun to bear in their direction.

“Watch it, the gunman’s back!” Aruto hisses to Tsukasa, seeming not to know for a moment which threat to guard against.

“This might tickle a bit.” Tsukasa responds, and Aruto spins toward him in confusion.

Tsukasa’s hand lands on Zero-One’s shoulder, and power flows through him. He is a conduit between the card in his belt, the crystalized essence of this world and its hero, and the hero himself, imbuing him with new strength. And a new shape.

Thouser steps back, wary and alarmed as Aruto’s body twists and morphs, shifting into a bright green mechanical-looking grasshopper.

And it is at that precise moment of uncertainty that Kaitou shoots Thouser in the back.

Tsukasa does not waste this chance. He jumps aboard Aruto, and commands “Jump!”

“What?!”

“Just jump!”

The grasshopper bounds into the air, its massive legs propelling them up a few stories, so they can see the top of the TV studio and some of the surrounding buildings. At the top of their arc, Tsukasa engages Zero-One’s final attack, and the power builds around them brighter and brighter as they freefall down to where Thouser is staggering from the unexpected pain of the dimensional bullets.

They hit right on target. The blast knocks them all back, and Tsukasa lands easily, converting back to Decade’s usual beautiful magenta. The Zero-One energy of his card is spent for the moment, and Aruto regains his usual human shape with no small amount of relief.

Across the way, Aruto’s rival lies prone. He levers himself shakily to one elbow as they approach, even his fury and pride unable to raise him any higher. Just before Aruto and Tsukasa reach him, Kaitou saunters past the downed CEO, and bends to scoop up something from the ground mere feet from where he lay. With a bright grin, he displays the item.

“G-give that back!” rasps Thouser, reaching desperately toward the glowing blue device in Kaitou’s hand. “I order you to give that back.”

Kaitou tuts, and pockets ZAIA’s newest upgrade. “I don’t think so. I’m quitting ZAIA. Consider this my severance pay.”

“But. You can’t!” The CEO splutters, bewildered.

“Oh? You mean this?” Kaitou takes off the lens from his face, and tucks it into Thouser’s hand with a pat. “You can have it back. It wasn’t great at controlling me anyway.”

The thief straightens and comes to stand at Tsukasa’s side as the defeated man howls in rage.

Aruto stares between Kaitou and Tsukasa. “Did… did you know he wasn’t actually under Gai’s control?” he asks Tsukasa.

Tsukasa shrugs, and puts a hand on Kaitou’s shoulder. “This guy has his own dreams, too,” he replies.

Kaitou scowls at Tsukasa and shrugs off his hand. “Like I need an excuse to put you in your place.” He protests. “If there’s nothing else interesting happening here, I’ll see you at home.” And with that, he walks off, not bothering to acknowledge the AIMs van that squeals past him on his way out, heading toward the scene of the conflict.

AIMs soldiers pore out and assist Gai to his feet. Their commander, bloody from her fight with Fuwa, guards their exit, while a glowering Fuwa, equally worse for wear, joins Aruto to watch the ZAIA forces retreat.

Aruto turns to Tsukasa and smiles at him, holding out a hand to shake. “Thank you for all your help. Thanks to you, Ichikome gets to fulfill his dream.”

Tsukasa waves off the hand rather than shaking it. “Don’t worry about it.”

Aruto pulls his hand back, looking a bit rueful. Izu has calmly appeared behind him, and is dabbing at the worst of his injuries. “That was really incredible what you did. I was so amazed, I was seeing double for a bit!” He pauses, and so does Izu, before they both spin and point as he announces “And that’s how you know it’s Aruto!”

Tsukasa rolls his eyes, but is smiling as he turns and walks back toward the film set. Behind him he hears Fuwa trying and failing to stifle his laughter, and wonders idly if the man has a pressure point too.

Natsumi and Yuusuke drop their armor and their guard as Tsukasa and Aruto enter the building, victorious. Yuusuke flashes them a thumbs-up and a big grin that somehow always warms Tsukasa to his toes. Tsukasa swaggers down the aisle, and takes a seat in the audience near them, sitting with a flourish and putting his feet on the seat in front of him. Aruto hurries past them to talk with the film crew, but Yuusuke settles in the seat on Tsukasa’s right and Natsumi shoos Tsukasa’s feet down to slip by him and sit on his left.

Together they watch the final minutes of the cooking competition. The chefs still only have eyes for their work, and Tsukasa wonders idly if they even ever realized the commotion that just happened. Ichikome’s hands move lightning fast as he plates his first dish, and turns without hesitation to stir a pot and add further ingredients and spices to a pan. For the first time Tsukasa notices the smile on the robot’s face as he works. And as he looks from Natsumi and Yuusuke’s enraptured faces as they watch, and Aruto smiling and talking to Izu on the other side of the stage, and back to Ichikome’s quiet focused smile, Tsukasa thinks that dreams really are something worth fighting for.


End file.
